Come Back to Me (26 page)

As she stared at the man, who was looking at her intently, it seemed she was destined to become Amy again. Everyone around her was forcing her back into her weak, tremulous body. It really was too much.

She recognised this man, but didn't know from where, until Alex said, ‘Detective Thompson?'

The man turned to Alex. ‘Yes,' he said, his features opening as he smiled, as though he were mightily pleased to see them. He looked from one to the other. ‘I didn't expect to see you two here. Amy, the last time I spoke to your mother, you were still missing. Does she know you're okay?'

Amy's mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. She and Alex exchanged glances, each of them willing the other to talk, to tell the detective of their harebrained plan for her to find ‘closure'. It was ridiculous, Amy thought now – she would never find closure. She had done better in
the last ten years through denial than she ever would by raking over the past again and again.

The detective looked at them and seemed to decide that they really shouldn't have this conversation in an open space. They were quickly led down a labyrinth of corridors to a small, featureless room, with chairs around a meeting table and a water dispenser in one corner. Alex went over and filled two white plastic cups, returning to the table with them. Amy sat down and drank greedily, her throat objecting to the sudden coldness sweeping across it. Alex silently took her empty cup, got up again and refilled it for her.

The detective closed the door, and came to sit opposite them. ‘How are you, Amy?' he asked. The concern on his face seemed genuine. ‘I've often thought about you, you know.'

She tried out a smile. It didn't work. ‘I'm okay,' she said quietly.

‘You're here to see these men get put away,' he said, a statement, not a question.

‘We thought it would be a good idea,' she replied, putting her head in her hands. It felt far from a good idea right now.

She looked up again and the detective was nodding, but he didn't say anything.

‘Will they?' Alex asked, urgency in his tone. ‘Do you think they'll be found guilty?'

They both watched Detective Thompson intently. He nodded. ‘They will,' he said, no trace of doubt showing on his face. ‘Of course, the law can be strange … unpredictable at times. But unless something happens that we haven't anticipated, and I can't for the life of me think what, then
this case is cut and dried. They'll be in prison till they're old men, if not until they die. Amy …' he reached across and put his hand over hers, and she concentrated on not snatching it away, ‘… I think you were right to come,' he said.

‘I don't think I can stay, though,' she replied, still staring at his hand on top of hers. ‘I thought it would be good seeing them there, but … the details … I can't …' She took her hand from under his and smoothed her hair down over her ears.

‘Amy –' Alex began, but the detective held up his hand.

‘I can understand that, Amy.' He paused and appeared to be thinking. ‘But the case is nearly over. The defence has almost finished, closing arguments won't take long. Why don't you stay in Perth, rest a while, and when the verdict is announced I'll make sure you're here for it.'

This sounded like something she might manage. She nodded. ‘Okay. Thank you.'

‘Of course.' Detective Thompson got up. ‘Just give me your number.'

Alex pulled out a business card. ‘My mobile works here,' he said, handing it over. ‘And we're staying at the Crowne Plaza.'

The detective nodded. They shook hands.

‘Thank you,' Alex said.

‘No problem. I'll be in touch. It's good to see you.' Detective Thompson put a hand on Amy's shoulder briefly as he left. He turned at the door. ‘If you haven't already, Amy,' he said, ‘phone your mum, love.'

Then he was gone.

By the time they got back to the hotel it was early afternoon, and jetlag was catching up with them.

‘What do we do now?' Amy asked.

Alex looked embarrassed. ‘I might sleep for a few hours, then see if I can reach Chloe – if I leave it till teatime here, it'll be early morning there.'

Amy nodded, then watched him lie on his bed and fall asleep. She was tired too, but she knew she'd never drift off, not after today. She couldn't stop thinking about the court. The horrible details. That stupid witness. Those men … their blank, unrepentant faces …

Before she knew it, the bottles in the minibar were all empty.

She was sitting on the floor beside her bed, unsure how she had ended up there. She reached to try to get up, and sent an object crashing to the ground. She put her hand back down on the floor and felt a sliver of glass biting into it. As she watched, a red stream began to course along one of the lines in her palm.

In no time, it seemed, there were arms around her, pulling her up. Alex's hair was ruffled, his eyeballs pink with tiredness. She watched as he looked down at the shards of glass on the floor, and then he picked her up and carried her the short distance to the tiny cubicle of a bathroom.

‘Thank you,' she said wearily, over and over.

‘It's okay,' he shushed her. He sat her on the toilet and pulled her arm towards the sink tap, within easy reach. He washed the blood off and took a good look at her hand. ‘It's not so bad,' he said. ‘I'll wrap it up.'

Once he had wrapped it in a flannel belonging to the
hotel, he carried her back to the bed. She noticed a smear of blood on his neck.

‘Rest, Amy,' he told her.

She tried to sit up, but her head had drums inside that began a frantic banging in response to the movement. She quickly lay down again. The fog in her brain was welcome; she much preferred it to clarity right now.

‘Sssh, Amy.' Alex was stroking her hair. His voice became sludgy as she began to drift towards unconsciousness.

And then she told him. Why at that moment, she didn't know. But she just couldn't continue holding on to it alone any longer.

‘I had a baby, Alex,' she whispered, pausing. ‘And then I did a terrible, terrible thing,' she added, just before the world went black.

Chloe was at the office and finally getting down to some work, grateful that when she'd woken that morning she had felt a little better. She started to believe that if she didn't think too far back or too far ahead, she could do this, she could ride out this period of uncertainty without completely falling apart. In fact, she began to feel strangely empowered. The situation with Alex couldn't turn her into a wreck. Work couldn't break her. The baby was too important for her to come undone. No, when Alex returned, he'd be surprised to find her more confident, more self-assured, and more composed. No more doubting, no more worrying. She was done with that. She had found a way through.

And then the phone rang.

‘Chloe?'

It took Chloe a couple of seconds to place the voice. ‘June?'

‘Yes, Chloe.' June's voice sounded nervous.

‘Is it Mum?'

‘Yes, I'm afraid so. She's in hospital.'

‘Oh my god,' Chloe cried. ‘What's happened?'

‘I'm not sure, they think it might be a heart attack,' June whispered. ‘I'm so sorry, Chloe. We're on our way there now.'

Chloe was already standing up, throwing things into her bag. ‘I'm on my way too,' she said, ascertained exactly which hospital they were heading for, and hung up.

Even in the face of something so urgent Chloe baulked at telling Neil she was leaving the office again. The whole sorry mess of her life felt like it was crashing down on top of her once more. She fired off a brief email to Neil before she switched her computer off, then hurried out of the building after a quick word with Jana, praying she wouldn't bump into anybody else, and grateful at least for that small mercy when she got outside unchallenged.

It took forty-five anxious minutes on the stop-start tube for her to reach home. At least once she was in her car and driving she felt more in control, with something practical to keep her occupied, although all road sense seemed to have deserted her and she had about half a dozen near misses. She was surprised there weren't any blue flashing lights behind her yet, as she had taken no notice of any speed limits, going as fast as the traffic allowed. So much so, that now she had nearly reached Kendal, where the hospital was located, in what must have been record time from London.

Her phone began to ring as she negotiated a roundabout,
and she pulled it out of her bag, her eyes darting back to the road and adjusting her steering as she veered towards the kerb, but not wanting to stop.

She snapped it open without looking at the caller. ‘Hi.'

‘Chloe, it's June. Your mum's been discharged. We've brought her home. Don't go to the hospital, come to the house instead.'

‘Discharged? After a heart attack? That doesn't sound right.'

‘Just come to the house, love – where are you now?'

‘Kendal.'

‘Great; well, we'll see you soon.'

Chloe hung up, grimaced, and, without indicating, at the next roundabout went all the way round to go back in the direction she'd just come, causing an irritated motorist to honk his horn at her. She resisted the temptation to give him the finger.

It took her another forty minutes to reach the laneways near her mother's house, and as she did so, the phone rang again.

‘Hi,' she said, holding the mobile sandwiched between ear and neck to allow her hands to remain on the steering wheel.

‘Chloe, it's Mark. What's going on? Jana said your mum is ill.'

‘Yes, heart attack,' Chloe replied, frantically turning the steering wheel at a tight bend. ‘I'm nearly there now.'

‘Where?'

‘Lake District.'

‘Christ. Chloe, I'm so sorry …'

Chloe felt tears welling again. God, she was so
sick
of crying. ‘Thanks, Mark. Look, I'm driving, I can't really talk.'

‘Okay, but ring me later, won't you? Let me know you're okay.'

‘Thanks, I will.'

She hung up, gritting her teeth, and threw the phone onto the passenger seat. The conversation she'd just had should have been with Alex, not Mark.

 

June came out of the front door of Chloe's mother's house before Chloe had even stopped the engine. As soon as she got out of the car she was enfolded in a hug, and Chloe responded for a moment, before pulling back and looking at June's face, reassured to see only concern there.

‘Where's Mum?' Chloe asked.

‘Right this way,' June said, leading her towards the front door, when George appeared.

‘June –' he said.

‘Just let her see Margaret,' June replied, not looking at him, trying to usher Chloe inside.

Chloe stopped for a moment. This was a little odd. The two of them seemed tense, and terse with one another.

‘What's going on?' she asked.

‘Nothing,' June demurred in an overly bright voice, as George said, ‘Chloe, a word,' and motioned her back towards the driveway.

‘George –' June began, but he raised his hand to quieten her.

‘We'll be there in a minute,' he said.

June shook her head but went inside.

Chloe was alarmed by all the subterfuge. ‘What's going on, George?'

He looked solemnly at her over his half-moon specs. ‘Your mother called from hospital this morning, saying she'd had a heart attack. So, June called you and we went down there, and waited while they did some tests … But, apparently, it wasn't a heart attack after all, it was an anxiety attack.'

Chloe stared at him, dumbfounded. She was aching and tired from racing up to see her mother, thinking she was critically ill, to find out she had had
an anxiety attack
?

‘She seems fine now,' George continued. ‘I just thought I should warn you, as I think June might have misled you on the phone this morning – unintentionally, of course. She was very worried at the time.'

Chloe nodded, still at a loss for words. She followed George into the house, and they walked through looking for her mother, who was eventually located in the kitchen.

Ironing.

‘Chloe, darling!' her mother trilled as she broke off from flattening the sleeve of a blouse and came around the ironing board to embrace her. ‘You're such a sweetheart to come. Silly me, thinking it was a heart attack, but I couldn't breathe all of a sudden, and then I felt so terribly dizzy, it was like I was getting sucked into a big black hole, and so I called the ambulance. And they were ever so nice, in the ambulance, they figured out it was nothing pretty quickly, but they took me in and did all the tests anyway, and said that, actually, I've got a first-class ticker, how about that?' She began to set about the sleeve with gusto. ‘June and George have been
marvellous, of course,' she said, finally pulling the blouse off the board and searching a nearby laundry basket for a hanger. She smiled across at June as she said this, and June, who was filling the kettle, smiled back.

There was silence as they all waited for Chloe to say something. George still looked sombre, while June was engrossed in finding tea bags, and Margaret was smiling beatifically at Chloe.

When Chloe finally spoke, it didn't sound much like herself, but the words were definitely coming from her mouth in a stream of bilious abuse.

‘You selfish, selfish woman,' she spat, watching the two women's expressions become startled, and noticing somewhere in her subconscious that George was registering absolutely no surprise at her words. ‘I have driven
five hours
to come and see you; I have broken speed limits all the way here; I have come, despite being incredibly tired and nauseous, all the time desperately worried about you … to find you
ironing
, drinking tea, perfectly well, and completely oblivious to the effect you have had on me – to the kind of stress you've caused me today – when I'm, I'm
pregnant
–' the secret was out of her mouth once again, and she registered the lack of shock on George's and June's faces with no real surprise – of course her mother had told them, her mouth was bigger than the Channel tunnel – ‘and when my husband is
god knows where
' – at this, they did all look surprised ‘– but that's okay, Mum, my life is going down the toilet, but as long as
you're
fine …'

Margaret's face was a picture of shock. Having returned to the iron, she put it down absent-mindedly, not noticing
as June discreetly righted it so it wouldn't burn a hole in the cover. ‘Chloe –' she began.

‘Save it,' Chloe said, holding up her hand. ‘I don't want to hear it. Just stay away from me. Just leave me alone from now on.'

And she ran out of the room, down the hallway, and through the front door.

She was clutching her car keys, trying to find the right key on the fob, when she heard steps behind her. She swung round ready to launch into another tirade, to find George there.

‘George, don't –' she said.

He put his arm around her. ‘I'm not,' he replied. ‘Just … don't drive all the way back tonight,' he said, pressing something into her hand. She looked down to see two fifty-pound notes there, and reacted by trying to give them back to him.

‘Chloe,' he said, ignoring her and holding her shoulders gently. ‘I'm your uncle, or as good as. I'm paying for you to find a hotel for the night. Humour me. Okay?'

She nodded, looked quickly into his eyes and then down at the gravel drive.

He kissed her on the forehead. ‘We'll call you,' he said, walking back towards the front door as she got into the car, and stopping the two women, who had come behind him, from going any further.

‘Chloe,' Margaret called, and her voice was high and unnerved. ‘Please.' But Chloe was in her vehicle now, and she drove away without looking back.